And Then There Was One

“Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you’re aboard, there’s nothing you can do.”

Golda Meir

My father was the only boy in a family of girls, smack-dab in the middle, with two older sisters and two who were younger.

I grew up surrounded by these aunties, taking for granted the warmth of their presence as the young usually do. Like everyone else raising families and supporting them, Dad and his sisters were busy, but when children left home, and careers wound down, a wonderful thing happened. They moved from being siblings who got along well and turned into fast friends.

Three lived in one area, and two were a couple of hours away, so regular get-togethers were doable. They seemed to lunch often, and those of you who knew them will not be surprised by this.

I suspect they were on a first-name basis with the wait staff at Anna Mae’s Restaurant.

Sometimes they planned overnight adventures to places of interest, and I imagine long chats until lights-out when they settled into their own rooms, already looking forward to more visiting over a hearty breakfast for the first time since they were kids.

And then, one by one, their numbers decreased. We lost Number Four first. Cancer. And then Number Two, followed a few months later by Number Five. Both Cancer.

The oldest passed away a couple of days ago, following a long decline. Dad is ninety now, and she was almost ninety-four.

A week before her passing I took Dad to visit, and our time together was nothing short of a miracle. She perked up when we got there, somehow setting aside her profound tiredness. They talked about old days and old times, and it was a joy to watch. Not wanting to tire her out, I suggested leaving at one point, but she would have none of it. We stayed for a long time, and even at that, she wasn’t ready to stop reminiscing. Dad’s heart was full, and I’m sure hers was too.

Hours later, the steep decline started. Now she is gone, and Dad is alone. I try to imagine how that would feel. Because my four sisters are all so available electronically, and because we use our group chat often, I can’t begin to understand how it would feel to have that electronic tie broken, let alone the physical one.

Over the past few days, I’ve pictured life as a Ferris wheel, with each generation moving toward the top of the wheel as the following generations “load” below. The seat at the top of my own Ferris wheel is almost empty, and before long I’ll be there, looking out over the rest of my life. I hope I can make the time remaining to me the best decades ever.

“Anyone who stops learning is old, whether at twenty or eighty. Anyone who keeps learning stays young. The greatest thing in life is to keep your mind young.”

Henry Ford